Just a Habit
by Crazy4Moony
Summary: Harry loves Draco, the problem is just that not everyone is as supportive as they would've wanted. They don't seem to understand that loving Draco, has become just like a habit. And he never wanted to quit.
1. Chapter one: them

**Just a habit**

**Them.**

They say 'old habits die hard'. Whoever 'they' are, they're right. You sit in front of the fire and try to remember what happened _before_.

Before. Before could be so easy. It _would_ be. If you would remember. Before? What about it? You can't remember. So normally, you don't try. And even if you would: before what? What was the use of trying if you don't know what you're trying for in the first place? Before. How about… before him.

Him. He had always been wrong. In more ways then one. Now he is reading a book. Sitting on the only green thing in the whole entire house: the sofa. He doesn't look up when you stand to refill your cup of tea. And somehow you want to hate him for it. But you don't. You stay still and walk to the kitchen. Him not saying a word isn't the worst you've been through. As easy as he could stay quiet now, he could leave you all alone tomorrow. He didn't need more motivation to do either. You remember how he had left you last time. You were showering, and the next thing you know, you hear a door slam and he's gone. You don't see him for days. When he comes home he brings flowers and kisses you softly. There is no need to say, that although leaving you _was_ bad, you've been through worse.

When you go back to sit in front of the fire again, he's curled up on the carpet. His book is still on the sofa. He looks as you walk over to the chair you've been using. You like it. Not only because it's by the fire, but also because it's next to the spot where he always curls himself up.

"Harry." He says. Now, Harry. But not always. He used to prefer Potter. You remember _that_. But not what was before. Before him. He _is_ your world. Your life. Your everything. You need him. Why think of before?

"Yes." You sit down and swing your legs over the arm-rest of the chair. Harry. The way he says your name is always so new. You love it when he does. It makes everything so much more real. He looks up at you now. He hasn't been very talkative lately. You know he thinks about his troubled past. You know.

His father died recently. It was in the daily profit. Twelve pages all about his father. And about you of course. Him and you. Since he read the article, he doesn't talk a lot. You don't even blame him.

"Can we do something?" He asks.

Why would you blame him? When you had read the article yourself, you looked at him, tears in your eyes. You were sorry, you said, you'd fix it. He didn't want you to fix it, he replied, it made him proud. You were surprised, you murmured, you didn't understand. To be yours, he whispered, is an honour _and_ a pleasure. To be called yours, he whispered, is nearly recognition of the fact that I _am_ yours. You smiled and he kissed you. Later, in bed, after you had sex, you asked him if he wanted to visit the grave. He shook his head. I just want to be here with you, he said. It is the last _real_ sentence he says to you for weeks. And now again.

"Anything you want, Love." The 'Love' could send him over the top. It doesn't. He merely smiles happily.

Sometimes you believe that words came even harder on him in the beginning. Then he would speak even less. He still did the usual yelling in the hallways, but when you lay together in his headboy's room, next to each other in bed, both reeking of boyish love, he doesn't say a thing. He brushes his lips past your neck. Kisses your shoulder and bites your ear. But he doesn't talk. You hope it is merely because he believes moments like this don't need words. You think it is because he is ashamed to admit that all of it is real, and with you.

"I want to… meet them." He's still looking at you.

After you left that room for the first time, you were outraged. Detention for Snape, and you had to clean _his_ room out? He was smirking all the whiled. You picked up his socks, he smirked. You hated him for smirking, but you loved it all at the same time. The second time you weren't there out of detention. There was something more. And that wouldn't be the last time you'd come there. It didn't even occur to you that you shouldn't, you just wanted to. So why wouldn't you? Illicitness didn't occur to you either. At least, not in the beginning. When it was just about pushing each other into empty classrooms. But later. After you had been together for some time. Later. When it was just a race to undress one another as soon as possible. Later. When under the blankets, all of it was just a struggle to turn each other on. Later. When you returned after you had slept together for the first time, and Ginny was there, asking about where you had been. Then it struck you. It was illicit, wrong, and more of that.

"Them?" You ask now. You're confused. Who would he mean by them?

It had been hard on you. And it was _still_ hard. Hard to forget. When it had still been a secret. When Ginny still believed you loved her. Then you had to remember. When you kissed her. Not to bite her lip. When you made love to her. Not to gently nibble her neck. It wasn't _that_ hard. What was hard, was to remember to say _her_ name when you came. Not his. That _was_ hard. Certainly because you had to think about _him_ in order to satisfy _her_. That had been hard. It was easier now. But still. Some things are hard to forget.

"Your… family?" He whispers.

Your family. He meant Sirius, Remus, the Weasley's and Hermione of course. It was the only family you had. Sirius and Remus lived together at Grimmauld place. After Sirius' miraculous returning from beyond the veil, Remus and Sirius had admit to you they were in love. It was only a matter of time before the others found out. Grimmauld place was still the headquarter of the order of the phoenix, though it wasn't used as headquarter that often, with Voldemort being dead, and most of the Weasley's lived there with Sirius and Remus, after the burrow burned down. They didn't mind living together, after all, they had become used to each other. Even Sirius and Misses Weasley got along. You hadn't seen them in ages. You communicated with both Sirius and Remus, and got occasional letters from Ron and Hermione. But you were afraid to even _think_ about the others. They had been shocked when you had left Ginny. Definitely when they found out _who_ you had left her for. Ron and Hermione were okay with it, and so were Remus and Sirius. But it was hard to visit them if all the others were there. It probably would end in a fight. You refused to apologise though. Why would you? You were in love. You couldn't help that. Some of them blamed _him_ too. Which made you even angrier. How dare they? Blame him. He wasn't perfect, well, for you he was, but whatever. He couldn't help it. Love isn't something you can stop. It's not _like_ that. And after you had been there last time, you had _never_ wanted to go there again.

_You had brought him with you. He was nervous and fidgeted all the way. You thought it was cute. Inside, he behaved. Everyone was trying to be nice, and he actually had a conversation with Ron. Everything went fine, 'till Fred and George couldn't control themselves. It ended in a big fight between the twins and you. He didn't say a word. They insulted him. Blaming for you and Ginny breaking up. You defended him, but it didn't matter. No one else talked as you yelled at each other. And when Fred was about to insult you too, he finally got up._

"_If you dare to ever say, any such thing about _my_ Harry," he snarled, taking your hand. "I'll beat the living hell out of you."_

_No one said a thing. Fred and George were shocked. He just finished his cup of tea, said: "thank you for the tea." And left, pulling you behind him._

"Are you… sure?" You ask now.

They had been mentioned in the article too. The daily profit said: 'we hope these broken bits of family will soon reunite, now that one part of it is filled with grieve.' You thought it was rubbish, but whatever.

"It's almost Christmas," he sat up straight. "And you had always been so close. I didn't mean to mess that up. I mean… we _could_ go there for Christmas." You look at him, and lower yourself from the chair. Taking his hand you whisper: "we don't have to if you don't want to."

"No, I mean… I _want_ to. For you." He says silently. You've had your ups and downs. Bad times had passed. But because of things, situations, like these, you know he loves you. And it's all you need.

"Okay, we can do that then." You smile and he releases a breath. You stand up and help him get up too. Then you take him upstairs. After making love he falls asleep in your arms. And you think you should better write Sirius a letter soon. Then you too, fall asleep. Thinking about how you would never even _want_ to love anyone but the man sleeping in your arms.


	2. Chapter two: back

**Back**

When you wake up, he isn't in your arms anymore. He always does that. Leaving your arms before you can wake. You hope it's just because he doesn't like to be held. You think it's because he doesn't like _you_ to be the stronger one. He's sitting next to you. A cigarette between his pale fingers. Smoking. Not something the fine Malfoy breed should indulge with. That's why he does it. You don't mind though. What is it, if not prove that he changed? It's not like he's this chain smoker or something. He just lights a cigarette every now and then. Only on special occasions. Only when he's with _you_.

"Hi." He doesn't need to turn to know you're awake. It's almost scary. But you like it. To you, it's prove he _knows_ you. That makes you feel good. You turn around, and your hand touches his leg under the blankets. He used to shy away from your touches. He doesn't anymore. He lies down, and kisses your cheek. Your hand is still on his leg. He doesn't remove it though. And you don't mind. He inhales, blue smoke emerges from his mouth. You say nothing. You just watch the blue smoke.

There are moments that don't need words. This is one of those moments. With him, you have lots of moments that don't need words. He is the master in creating comfortable silences. But you have to admit, before, there had been lots of uncomfortable silences too. In fact, moments like these, used to be so unreal, that you stopped trying to grab them, and just enjoyed. You still enjoy. But you grabbed moments like these now. You remembered them for ever. You needed to keep them in your memory. You had to hold on to every comfortable silence. Because if you didn't, they'd become unreal again.

"Are you okay?" He whispers. He puts out the cigarette, and turns to you. You look at the ceiling, and caress his leg. Why couldn't things always be like this? You wished that he'd always care. That he'd never yell, or say nothing. You wish he would whisper things to you for ever. Because then, you'd feel safe for ever.

"I'm fine." You say, an equal whisper. You're not quite sure whether he's looking at you or not. It doesn't really matter though. You just like it when he looks at you. It makes you feel wanted. He used to always watch you. You could feel his glares when you sat with Ginny. Or when you were around girls. Or when you were doing something stupid. During quidditch games. Wherever you were, his eyes were too. He never really left you. He was _always_ closer then you thought.

"I was thinking about making tea. Would you like some?" He asks. You continue to caress his leg. You secretly hope he'll stay. You know he wont. He wants tea. He'll get tea. You would love to tell him you didn't want him to go down for tea. You'd love to tell him you want him to stay. But you don't. You'd never be able to tell him what to do. And even if you'd ask him to stay, there's always the chance he'll go anyway. You wouldn't be able to handle that. Knowing that he'd leave, even if you ask him not to. I could break you.

"Harry?" He asks when you say nothing. You breathe in, en nod. He kisses your cheek, and leaves.

By the time he's back, you've already written the letter to Sirius, and you're already back in bed. He sits next to you, and hands you a mug. He's also carrying a popsicle. Being logic has never been his strongest point. Hot tea. And a lemon popsicle. But why not? It _is_ winter, after all. And he likes popsicles in winter. The wind carries a cool breeze in through the open window, and his tongue flicks out to lick the popsicle. Your eyes follow his tongue, as it continues licking. It's _almost_ tormenting. But only almost. When he sees your looks, he offers you the popsicle. So you lick it. Lemon. Your favourite. He gives you a look that says: "come on. I don't mind." So you lick it again. And again. The forth time you aim for the popsicle, he moves it, and your tongue touches his instead. You have no idea where the ice cream went, but you don't care, and just caress his tongue with your own. He pulls you closer and your hand goes over his leg. You love touching his soft skin. It makes you realise things are more real when you're able to feel them. And you also love the thought of your skin on his. As his hand flicks over your chest, you know where the ice cream went. You feel the sticky, yellow liquid-ish popsicle slide over your chest. He giggles, and puts the popsicle on the nightstand. He had forgotten he was still holding it.

"Sorry." He whispers hoarsely. Even though the ice cream is gone, you can still feel the liquid running. His tongue flicks out, and licks the liquid away. Your stomach contracts at the feeling, and he grins. He pulls you close against his body and you look at his eyes. His eyes are fixed on your lips, and you know he's thinking about whether he should kiss you or not.

"Do it." You whisper. For that, he could not kiss you. Telling him what to do, could cost you. But he simply looks you in the eye, and kisses you. You've never been into kissing with your eyes open, unless it's with him. You love to study his eyes when you kiss. The way they change. Every time, over and over again. He softly bits your bottom lip, and you let out a soft moan. Kissing him is always so different. Yet so the same. He is the most complicated person in your entire life. _Always_ different. Yet he never really changes. _Always_ gone. Yet he never really leaves. His eyes are studying yours too. But eventually, as he gets lost is the kiss, his eyes flutter closed. You push him down, still not breaking the kiss, and one of his hands trails the length of your body. You straddle his hips with your knees. He pulls you even closer and grabs your crotch.

"I want you Harry," he whispers. You moan, putting your head in your neck. He's hard against you, and you shift a bit, positioning yourself. He pushes up his hips and enters. You bite your lip, hard. He pulls your head down, and kisses your cheekbone. You swallow hard, as he makes a trail of wet kisses, all the way up to your ear. "Only you." He whispers. You taste a bit of blood in your mouth: you had bitten your lip till it bled. He kisses you again, and you move slowly. Making love to him could hurt. The strange thing was, that you didn't care that it hurt. When you make love, you always feel whole. Safe. Complete. His fingers make you forget about the rest of the world. You keep on looking into his eyes. You close them, only for one second, when he starts moving faster. When he kisses you, you feel as if it's a reward for letting him have his way with you. You don't really care _why_ he kisses you. You just wish he'd kiss you for evermore. So you could feel like _this_ for evermore. He has started panting now, and so are you. Moans fill the air. You're happy your neighbours are old and almost deaf. The panting becomes more loud. And you know you're almost there. Then there's a moment of nothing. Just him and you. And an outburst of overwhelming heat. When you both come, you're afraid it doesn't matter that they're old and almost deaf. Afraid they'll hear anyway. But then you don't care, and he turns you around and kisses you fiercely. You wrap a leg around his hip, and he strokes your cheek softly. You're sweaty, and feel like a shower. You don't move though. If you move, he'll be gone. You love the feeling of his body close against your own, and he wraps his arms around you. You wished this could last for ever.

"Shower?" He asks hoarsely.

You nod. And you have a shower. He gives you a backrub, and in the bedroom, the popsicle melts, and the yellow liquid drips down on the carpet.

It's about seven. He sits on the bed. You're packing. Christmas is tomorrow. You're both leaving for Grimmauld place today. He looks paler then ever, and is quite nervous. Even now, when he's still at home.

"It's okay." You whisper. You want to be able to calm him down. You want to be there for him. Help him. But you continue packing, and he says nothing and fumbles with the sheets. You take shirts, boxers, jeans, socks and more out of the drawers. He just sits in silence, watching you move. When you're done packing, you look at him. He's still on the bed. Still fumbling with the sheets. You sit down next to him, and he looks up. You've always thought his eyes were amazing. Silver iron. Pools of feeling. Drops of magic. He swallows hard. He knows it's time to go. You can see it in the way the indigo spreads in his eye. Until it's more blue then silver. Indigo points out insecurity. You hold his hand. He sighs.

"It's okay. This'll be fine Love, I promise." You whisper. You can tell he doesn't believe it. Nodding comes hard on him, but he just does it. After all, if he can't trust you, who _can_ he trust? You're all he has left. Sometimes you _think_ it's the only reason he stays with you. You _hope_ he's with you cause he loves you. He stands up now, and still holds your hand. You smile and kiss him softly. Ten minutes later, you're standing in the fireplace, your hand around his hip, bags in the other one and saying: "Grimmauld place twelve." You hope Sirius'll be the first to see you. To greet you. You need that. Seeing him again. You've missed him. But you had to admit, if you had to choose between Sirius or him, you'd choose the latter. You wouldn't even have to think. Because as much as you miss Sirius, you _need_ Draco. Like air to breath. And you love Sirius like a father. But you love him as so much more.

Grimmauld place hasn't changed much. At least, not in the living room. He's holding you tightly, as if afraid he might lose you if he's not careful. You kiss him softly and look around. No one's there. They'll probably be in the kitchen. After all, Sirius didn't know you were floeïng here. You look down at him, and move slowly from the fire. He follows, still holding you tightly. To the kitchen it is then. You notice the Christmas decoration, and smile. It's just like the last Christmas you spend here. Only now, you openly love _him_. And only now, he's here with you. When you open the living room door, you hear voices.

"They wont like this." You hear Molly say. She sounds sad. Less cheery then you can remember.

"I don't really care!" Sirius says, already raising his voice. He's always had quite a temperament. "This is _my_ house! If I want Harry and Draco to be _here_ for Christmas, that's my choice, and mine alone!"

You hear a cough.

"Oh, and Remus' of course." Sirius adds. You can imagine his face. Probably grinning sheepishly at Remus. Remus'd be shaking his head and rolling his eyes. You smile. You really missed them. Then you hear a deep sigh. _He_'s holding your hand again. You rub it with your thumb.

"Honestly Sirius," Molly begins. "I love this. Them coming here for Christmas. I'm happy about seeing Harry again. You know I love him. I'm just warning you. They'll cause trouble."

"Let them try. And what time is it? Wasn't Harry supposed to be here already?"

You look at him again. He's looking at you too, and then he kisses you, as if to say: 'we can do this.' After that, he straightens his robes, and starts walking to the kitchen door. You smile again and follow him. You can indeed do this. Together. When he reached the door, you took his hand, and without an other word, walked into the kitchen.

Sirius still looked the same. The ghost of his past in his eyes, yet they spoke of so much more. Mischiefness. Love. Friendship. And much, much more. Long black hair, yet more cared for. Shinny and all that. He's still the quite handsome man he was before. Remus has more scars then you can remember. Which is only natural, a lot of full moons have passed since you last saw him. And there are some strands of grey hair, highlighting the chestnut brow. It fits him though. Molly hasn't changed either. Only now, she has a face, a bit sadder then before.

(Before. Before him. You can remember their faces. How they made you feel. Their favourite colours. Their names. The little things. Because all of that happened _during_ him. But, would anyone ask for your aunt's name, you wouldn't be able to answer. That was _before_ him. What happened there, you didn't even _want_ to remember. And could anyone blame you? _He_ never did. That was all that mattered. He never asked you about it. Sometimes, that made you feel mad, as if he didn't care. But you knew he just didn't want to upset you. He had tried to talk to you about it, at _first_. Like you had tried to talk about his father. But in the end you just stop trying.)

"Hi." Your voice sounds too cheery, and hardly matches your feeling. You feel a bit nauseous. Now, there're just the three of them. But it wont take long 'till the others come down. That could complicate things.

Sirius looks up, and storms to you right away. He holds you tight, and you feel as being held prisoner, but enjoy it anyway. After that, Sirius even gives _him_ a hug. He looks shocked, and pats Sirius' back, giving you some insecure glances. Remus shakes your hand and smiles warmly. You believe he's somewhat afraid of proximity. And shy of course. He's very shy. Molly holds you for what seems like hours. It feels good to be in the arms of someone close to a mother figure. _He_ stands a bit warily by the table. Then you realise you should better introduce him to Molly. After all, she hadn't been here last time. And he had never seen her. Or at least, he had never been properly introduced to her. She knew who he was, of course. But not the other way around.

"This is Molly, Ron's mother." You say. She smiles, and he gives her a hand, an equal smile spread all over his face. She shakes the hand heartily, and he says: "it's a pleasure meeting you miss." And you're secretly very proud. The way he says something about her earrings, her cheeks going crimson, making her forget about everything that ever happened between their families. Oh, he just makes you fall for him, all over again. Sirius offers you both a chair, and Molly makes tea. You take his hand, and he smiles wryly. He looks adorable when he does that. Showing affection like that. And as he sips tea, you notice his eyes are less cerulean then they were when you left home.

You drink tea, and talk for a while. About trivial things, really. But it's fun, and you're enjoying it. After you had tea, Sirius says: "okay, I can show you your room, if you'd like."

"Oh yes," Molly says. "You do that, and I'll make breakfast. You both look far to thin for my fashion." She smiles.

And you grin. She has always told you, you were to thin. You never mind though, her breakfast is the best. And you hadn't had breakfast yet. And now that she mentioned it, you were famished, really. So you say: "that'd be great." And Sirius and Remus go upstairs with you, to show you your room.


	3. Chapter three:Maybe singles 'd be better

**Maybe Singles would be better… **

"This is great!" He cheers, and jumps on the bed like a little child. "I was afraid he'd give us two singles, and if possible, in two different rooms, departed by endless hallways and thousand of doors." He grins widely and you laugh aloud. Sirius and Remus just left the room. It looks a lot like the old room you had here. But you know it's not. This one has better view. Well better. You can see a different side of the street. More trees and that stuff. All covered in white, shinny snow. Everything is very dark, as is everything in the house, but you don't mind. The black is less pressing now he is here. And he looks happy too. He is still sort of, half jumping the bed. You are just glad he's so happy.

"Come on Harry. You're not gonna just stand there, are you?" He winks seductively, and you let him drag you down on the bed. He gives you one of those mind-blowing kisses, straddles your hips, and then, totally out off the blue, starts tickling you like mad!

"No!" You yell. Of course you yell. You hate tickling. The way his fingers move teasingly over sensitive skin. Oh, you love it, but hate it all at the same time. You continue yelling. Screaming, calling him names. But he grins and continues.

"Say I'm beautiful!" He demands. You continue squealing, trying to free yourself, knowing it doesn't have a point.

"No! I will do no such thing!" You yell, between giggles and yelps. "You sodding wanker!" And as you yell this, something you hadn't expected happened. The door bursts open, revealing three sleepy Weasleys. You woke the twins and Ron. They rub their eyes, and Ron murmurs: "are you 'kay Harry? We heard you yell."

You're shocked. You don't know what to do. And then, without a warning, _he_ just starts laughing. Just like that. Loud laughter emerges from his mouth. And then the twins open their eyes properly, so they can see who the laughing comes from. They both get a bit pale, around their noses, and Fred murmurs: "right."

Then the laughing stops, as sudden as it began. He says: "yah. Sorry if we woke you. But where were we?" All cheery, and surprises you, who isn't paying attention, but is staring at Ron and the twins, by tickling again. Immediately, you start yelling, calling him names, but none of it seems to affect him.

"Say I'm beautiful!" He demands again. You can imagine the Weasleys rolling their eyes, since they're still just standing there, but don't mind.

"I'm… beautiful!" You manage to comprehend. But, unfortunately, he will not be tricked.

"Ha, bloody, ha! Not you, you sad sod! Me!" He yells, still moving his fingers all over. He tickles your sides, touching the sensitive spots, in such a teasing way, it's making you insane.

"I'm… not… beautiful… then?" You put on your saddest face. Which isn't easy, when you're screaming and laughing all at the same time. His grin grows wider.

"Of course you are darling. But we both already know _that_," his fingers move over your stomach, more sensitive spots are to be found. "Now just say it already!"

"Okay, okay!" You give up. No man can stand up to this handiwork. "You're beautiful!" And immediately, he stops. Your breathing became really heavy, and you try to slow your beating heart a bit. He just smiles and kisses you softly, before getting up, and stretching. Then he seems to notice the twins and Ron, all over again. Before he can say something though, Molly comes in, a wide smile.

"I just came to tell you breakfast's ready. And you," she looks at the twins and Ron. "Get dressed. We have guests!" Then she turns and goes down again. The twins leave, but Ron stays.

"You know," he says, a bit sheepishly. "It's good to have you here, but next time, you _could_ find a more sensitive way to wake me, could you?"

You sit up, and nod, saying: "sure thing Ron. And congratulations." He smiles, still looking pretty tired, and probably not sure what you just said, and leaves. Draco turns and looks at you. You smile, and get out of bed. While you walk to the door, you give him a quick kiss, and say: "come on Love." And take his hand.

When you enter the kitchen, everyone's already there. Everyone, including Ginny. She's whispering to Fred, but you don't really care. You care more about Hermione, who's smiling broadly. Her and Ron got engaged a couple of weeks ago, and you hadn't got the chance to congratulate her properly. She gets up when you see her, and walks over to hug you. _He_ gives her a hand, and says congratulations for the both of you. You told him about the wedding, of course, since you'd be invited, and so would he be. He didn't really respond though, he had still been going through his 'silence' period. You hadn't even been sure he got the message. But he did. Luckily.

Hermione smiles (a smile you believe to be a true one.) and she says: "thank you Draco."

Sirius points at two chairs next to him and Remus, and you sit down. You next to Sirius, he next to Arthur. Everything seems perfectly normal. Except for Ginny and the twins ignoring you. You don't mind though. Sure, you were sad about losing them, but if you'd have to choose between them and Draco, you'd choose him in a heartbeat. He and Arthur start talking about the ministry, and Sirius asks you about how the two of you've been. You tell him about the swing, and the sofa, and the books, and everything that might matter. How you're happy. And, when you think _he_'s not listening, you tell Sirius how you love him. And never would want to love anyone else. And then you feel his lips on your ear, and he whispers: "be careful there Potter, or you'll make me blush."

You grin, and say, an equal whisper: "I kind of like it when you blush Malfoy." And you feel his lips on your own. Hearing the disapproving grunts coming from the other side of the table, Ginny and the twins were watching, but you still didn't really care. You can snog Draco wherever you want! That is your right as a boyfriend! But then he pulls back and continues talking to Arthur, as if nothing ever happened. You don't mind and take some tea. Tea's good. Clears your mind and all.

Then you hear a cough, and look up. George is looking at you. Not as hostile as before, more a bit friendly. He asks: "so, how have you been?" You take an other sip of tea, and answer: "very good, actually. And you?" George smiles a weak smile.

"Good, I guess." Fred gives him an angry sort of glance, but you ignore it. After all, George _did_ start talking.

"And how's the shop?" You ask.

"Really good," George smiles proudly. "We've become a great hit in Europe."

You smile, and Fred turns to Ginny again. You and George make small conversation. About trivial things. Doesn't matter about what. All sorts of things. And then comes the big subject. You knew he'd ask sooner or latter. And you're happy he doesn't sound malicious when he does.

"And, erm… you and Draco, you're doing good?" When he asks, you feel Draco's hand taking yours under the table. You had known he was listening to the conversation, even though he and Arthur were discussing telephones.

"Yes, we are. Well, I think so…" you look at _him_, and he smiles.

"We're doing great," he says. "Why wouldn't we right? I mean," he pinches your hand lovingly. "Two good-looking men like ourselves. Not even remotely attracted to woman. Always have been interested in each other, only back then we mistook it as hate. And sure, we have or bad moments. But who cares 'bout that when you're in love, right?" He kisses you again, and without an other word, turns to Arthur to discuss telephones again.

Ginny and Fred are watching you. But you ignore them and grin at George. He grins back. This wasn't at all bad. He even tells you you're lucky to have found someone who you can love. His attitude changed completely since your last visit. And you wonder how that happened. You remind yourself to ask him later, and butter your toast.

After breakfast, you go up to unpack your things. You're staying for a couple of weeks, so there's a lot of unpacking to do. He unpacks his own stuff, putting books in the nightstand, and putting little pictures on it. The pictures are mostly of the two of you. You and him. Hugging, kissing, just sitting, acting like fools, you reading, him trying out shades. There's even one of you, trying on jeans. You can see your boxers as you pull the jeans over your legs. It's quite funny. You remember that. He took the picture, you were startled, and nearly fell. It involved in two hours of hot making out in the dressing room, 'till one of the young woman noticed, and kicked you out of the store. You were forbidden to ever come there again. There's one family picture. Black and white. He keeps it with him at all times. He put up all his clothes, started unpacking his socks, and stopped. Then he sat down with a book, and watched you continue.

"You're not gonna unpack?" You ask. He shakes his head.

"Later. I don't feel like it now." He says, and smiles at you. Then someone knocks.

"Come in." You say, and Hermione enters. She's smiling, and Ron tracks in after her. He still looks tired, puts an arm around her, and puts his head on her shoulder, his eyes closed. Draco shifts a bit warily, and you get up.

"Can I talk to you outside, Harry?" Hermione asks. You nod, and before closing the door, you look at Draco and Ron. Ron has placed himself on the bed, and looks really tired. Draco just sits there, his legs crossed.

"It's about the wedding," Hermione says. "Do you think we should invite his mother?"

She looks really nervous. You think for a second. You aren't sure if it'd be a good idea. They didn't get along. But maybe it'd bring them back together. Since he was so in to 'reuniting' lately. So you say: "I'll ask him, you know, when the time's right. I don't want to piss him off. And you never know what bringing up his mother will do to him." Hermione just smiles.

"Thank you." She says, and opens the door again. She goes in, and starts laughing immediately. You follow, to see what's wrong. You enter the room, and start giggling, trying hard to turn your giggles into a couch. (Not to mention: you fail.) Ron has fallen asleep in Draco's lap. He's looking sort of terrified and disgusted at the same time. And he's afraid to wake Ron too.

"He fell asleep, just like that." He whispers. His eyes are big with fear. And he looks sort of hopeless.

"Ron," you say, loud and clear, trying to suppress your giggles. Ron stirs. Draco flinches. "Would you mind getting off my boyfriend."

"Hmm." Ron turned around. Draco's eyes get wider. Hermione laughs harder.

"Come on Ron," you say, really loud this time. "I asked you nicely!"

Ron opens an eye, and yawns. He looks up at you, not noticing where he is right now. Hermione's laugh has faded into small chuckles.

"What 'd you say Harry?" He murmurs.

"Get off my boyfriend." You repeat, a sweet smile playing on your lips. Draco looks sort of desperate.

"Your boyfriend?" Ron says sleepily. He gets a bit up.

"Yah. Meaning me, you nitwit." It's the first thing _he_ says. Ron turns around, his face goes white, and he backs away, to where there's no bed, and falls on the floor. Hard.

"Oh, God, Ron!" Hermione ducks to help him up, but before she can help him, he's up, and out of the room. Hermione stares at the door, and then, she giggles again. Without an other word, she too, leaves.

"Promise you'll never ever leave me alone with him again." _He _whispers. You smile and sit next to him.

"Promise."


	4. Chapter four: Christmas

**Christmas.**

Life is steady, and you're on a sofa. He's on the carpet, reading. Ginny is also reading, somewhere in the corner of the room. Fred and George are playing chess. Fred deliberately ignores you, but George smiles every now and then. You don't think Draco even knows that anyone but you and him are in the room. The others came in later, when he was already reading his book. He didn't look up, but just flipped page after page. Every now and then he'd chuckle, and everyone would look up, even Ginny -who wasn't really reading, as you very well knew- and they'd look at him, but he wouldn't notice and continue. You weren't really doing anything. Just sitting, and watching him. You could continue watching him all day. But, then he looks up into your eyes all of a sudden, and says: "what are you looking at?"

Everyone looks at you, and you sigh.

"You of course, what else?" He blushes, and you look up instead. Maybe he'd like that better. But after a while you look at him again. Who cares. He's far more interesting then the ceiling. You try to think of things to say. Anything. Because you feel like you should say _something_. Because maybe, if you don't begin, you'll never talk again. God, that's the most suppressing thought you had in hours. But he surprises you again.

"You don't think Ron is _too_ shocked, do you? I don't wanna have him ignoring me at all times. That would sort of ruin the whole idea of a happy Christmas."

You can't help laughing. He looks up, looking quiet serious. From the corner of your eye, you see Fred, George and Ginny watching.

"I'm sure he'll get over it," you smile. "And after all, it _was_ his own fault you know."

"Hmm," he nods. "But somehow, I think he'll blame me anyway."

"Oh well," you glance at George once. "You can't help being all cuddly and pillow-like."

"Hey!" He throws his book at you, you duck, and it flies over the sofa, to lay somewhere forgotten on the floor. "Bastard." He huffs. You chuckle again.

"But, it was a compliment?!" You protest feebly, trying hard not to laugh. He huffs again, and turns on his back, obviously regretting he threw his book away. He smiles almost angelic at you. You know what'll come next.

"Will you get my book?" He asks hopefully.

"No." You say, and pull up your knees.

"Why the hell not," he complains. "It's your fault I lost it in the first place!"

"I didn't tell you to throw the book! You decided to throw it, all by yourself!" You try to reason with him. Knowing him, you'll fail.

"But you were being so annoying that I had to throw a book, Harry! That's not my fault!" He half-whines.

"I was complimenting you! That's not annoying!"

"Being pillow-like is not a compliment!" He says matter-of-factly. "Pillows are fat!" You can see the other three are following the conversation very carefully. You sort of enjoy it.

"Yah, sure, if you look at it like that," you roll your eyes. "I was talking about the fluffy part. You're not fat."

"Yes I am! Cause you said I'm pillow-like and pillows are fat!" You know he too, enjoys this. Malfoys love being in the spotlight. Though you're still not sure that he noticed the others. Anyways, he had always enjoyed bickering about useless things with you.

"Well, I meant a thin pillow then!" You sigh.

"Oh whatever. Come on. Will you get my book?" He asks again.

"No."

"Oh come on Potter! Get your bloody ass, out of the bloody sofa, and just get my bloody book!" He demands.

"Why the hell would I do that? As I recall correctly, you tried to decapitate me with it!" You can hear some small laughs coming from the corner.

"But Harry," he's back to nearly-whining. "I knew you'd duck in time Darling! I mean, all this book-throwing, it has a purpose you know! I threw it with reason!" He has the biggest, blue puppy-dog eyes ever seen to men.

"And what may that be then?" You ask.

"Well, I knew I'd be to lazy to get it myself, and then you'd get it for me, and they I'd be able to check out your ass!" He smiles all amiable and all.

"Pff. I don't buy it. And I'm still not getting your book," he pouts a bit. "And you do know what'll happen when you don't get it, do you?" He shakes his head. "Well," you continue. "You'll be bored for some hours, and then you'll decide you wanna do something. And then, when you walk in here tomorrow, you'll say to yourself: 'oh, here's the book I was looking for.' And you'll continue reading."

"Seriously Love," he grins. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were obsessed with me."

"If you didn't know better?" You raise an eyebrow. He grins some more, then he says: "now, I don't feel like being bored. Entertain me."

"Oh, and how am I supposed to do that?" You ask.

"I dunno," he turns to his stomach again, and starts swinging his legs. It's cute. "We _could_ engage in some huge snogging activities. Snogging isn't boring." He says pensively.

"Very true indeed." You say, nodding. The others are still watching. Unbelievable they still haven't lost interest, when this conversation obviously isn't going anywhere.

"Or… oh, I know," he smiles broadly. "Come here, lie down." He says, pats on the spot next to him, and you do as you are told.

"What now?" You ask. He's looking up. So you look up too. Nothing there but bare ceiling. Right. 'Cause looking at the ceiling is _so_ logical.

"We count the holes." He explains. You frown.

"What holes?"

"They're imaginary, of course, nitwit," he says, as if it's the most logical thing. "So you count the imaginary holes. Oh, one." He points at the ceiling.

"How do we know we're not counting the same holes?" You ask, being sort of honest, though having to try not to laugh. He hits you head. "Okay, okay," you puff. "Two."

"Good boy." He kisses your cheek, and you blush, just a bit. His kisses fluster you some-times. Certainly when you don't see them coming.

"Oh, I get rewards?" You say, trying not to sound too hopeful.

"Sure," he says. "Why not." You can see both George_ and_ Fred grinning from the corner of your eye. Ginny looks as if she's about to spit fire. Oh, who cares.

"Oh, even better, well," you think for a second. "I think I've counted 'bout five thousand holes." He laughs aloud. And then kisses you on your mouth. He pulls back far too soon for your fashion.

"That's it?" You ask. "Five thousand holes, and all I get is one lousy kiss?" He hits your head again.

"Call my kisses lousy again Potter, and I'll deny you sex for two weeks. See how you'll like that."

You grin again.

"Oh, sorry Dear. But honestly, don't I deserve more? Five thousand holes are an awful lot you know."

"True Love, very true," he turns to you, and you look into his eyes. "But there are some things even _I_ wont do when we have an audience." He kisses you softly. Your smile grows wider. So he had been fully aware of the others. Oh, what the hell. Who cares?

Everyone looks very chipper that evening. Except for Ginny of course. She's always been quite the party-pooper. Every time people where happy, she had to be all unhappy-ish. But whatever. You'd been together for a fairly long time now that you think about it. To you, it's proof of your love. Sometimes you fear he just has no where else to go. You push the disturbing thoughts out of your head, an look at him. Beautiful and blonde. Everything is going fine. Then there's a tune echoing over the table, and everything turns quiet. Draco blushes. It's his cell.

"Hello?" He questions.

Someone answers, everyone looks at him.

"Oh. But we're not there now. Where with… well, family, I suppose. Harry's godfather. And the Weasley's are here. And Hermione too. And lots of people actually."

Everyone can hear a distant voice, on the other side, screeching: "you're with Harry's family! After what happened! Blimey, Drake, have you gone nutters?"

Draco raises an eyebrow, people exchange looks, continue staring.

"Nope. Don't think I have. What? You'd hoped the ghost of my father would hunt me," he sounds bitter. "I'd just leave Harry and miraculously, I'd be off being pure evil? Sorry, didn't work that way. What are you doing there anyway?"

They couldn't hear the voice this time, though Draco frowned.

"Well, I dunno. Everything's the way it was. It's not like we moved or anything. Just less clothes and all. But, one warning, if you intend on invading the bedroom too, don't touch my cigarettes or the pictures on the nightstand. I might just terribly hurt you, if you do."

"The pictures!" Chirruped a voice. "You didn't take them with you! I'm shocked!"

"Well I couldn't take _all_ of them. They wouldn't fit with the books, and I didn't want to break a frame, or feel like one of those really _old_ people who need to have memories on them at all times, and anyways, I have the real thing right next me, why would I bother?"

Again, they couldn't catch the words, but they were cheery.

"Well of course he is," Draco frowned again. "It'd be weird to come here, and then leave Harry somewhere, right? Or like, dump him somewhere and pick him up and the way back." He smirked and winked at you.

The voice said something, that made Draco laugh.

"Really Blaze, I'm sure he's here, and not doing what you think he's doing. Shall I pinch him to be sure he hasn't sent a hologram of himself to come to diner?" Draco mocked, already leaning forward.

Blaze said something, laughing too. Draco pinched you, who lets out a yelp of pain. Draco's pinches were always quite painful.

"He yelped in pain Blaze, happy now? Still Harry-ish, and still wuss-like. Really, how he ever got into Gryffindor is beyond me." Draco remarked, staring at the ceiling.

Blaze made a retort and Draco commented: "Blaze, mind you, no one but I can exclaim Harry should've been in Huffelpuff." Without any malice.

You squat him on the head, but all Draco does is smirk, and say: "looks like you're gonna have to save me after all, I'm being seriously manhandle here! Nothing like my old man used to do though…"

There was an odd silence as Draco realised what he had just said. It was even more silent then it had been before. And this time everyone could hear Blaze, although he appeared to be whispering: "Drake, you shouldn't be thinking about that. That's over now. He's gone. And even I can't deny that Potter's good for you," Draco closed his eyes at this. "You're happy. You deserve that. You shouldn't, not once, think about how your father used to treat you. He was wrong, and you are where you belong. That was your choice to make Drake, never his, even though he tried to make it his own," Draco's lip is quivering. Anger or pain, you can't tell. You take his hand and look at him, he doesn't open his eyes. "Forget about him Drake. Think ahead, right? Don't mention him, just ignore he was ever there, and go on with your life. You can do that. I know you can," Draco takes a deep breath. "I wont touch the cigarettes, don't have no interest in the pictures, and if Potter treats you wrong, let me know. Though with the saint-Gryffindor thing about him, he wouldn't dare, right?"

Draco seemed to ponder it. Then opened his eyes and looked into yours. He rubs your hand with his thumb. Places it on his leg.

"I wouldn't know," he says, smiling a bit. "Let's not forget, after all, I am a sneaky, low, evil-minded, Slitherin."

Blaze says something, Draco thinks.

"I don't know yet. When it's right, I suppose. I've got it right here. I'm not as thick to leave it at the house, it cost a fortune!"

You wonder what the hell he's talking about. You're glad his mood changed though. And feel a bit guilty about never pushing him to tell you the whole story about his father. But you knew, if you would've tried, he could've easily turned away. You didn't want that.

"God, that Potter must be really something," Blaze's voice cheers. "'Cause I saw the thing and man… it huge, I'm sure he'll be happy."

"Yah. Maybe," Draco avoids your eyes, you wonder why. "I think… I mean… it's all about saying at the right time, right? Blaze? Then there's no way to get a bad out-coming? Right?" He sounded insecure.

"It'll be a great out-coming Drake!" Blaze cheered. "Otherwise he's a prick, and then there isn't anything to feel bad about. I liked the sofa by the way. Noticed everything else was so damn _red_ and _golden_. You've been on a tight leash or something?"

"You're forgetting it _is_ the house of Godric Gryffindor. It'd be weird if everything was Slitherin-ish, wouldn't it? I hope you haven't made a mess either?"

"No no," Blaze said. "I like the bathroom too by the way."

"The bathroom? What the hell did you need the bathroom for?"

"I really needed to pee Drake! It was a long way getting there. I also visited the graveyard. You knew Potter's parents were there?"

"Of course not!" Draco said sarcastically. "We had no idea what so ever that Harry's death parents where only yards away from our house, where they actually died Blaze. Jesus. Never been into the whole Boy-who-lived history have you?"

"Be happy I haven't! Or it could be me sitting there!" Blaze retorted.

"Yah, definitely," Draco rolled his eyes, grinning at you. "'Cause you're so much better looking, and so much more skilled then me, right?"

They hear Blaze snort. "You've made your point. When'll you be back?"

"In a couple of weeks. I think. I'm not really sure. Why do you ask?"

"Curiosity. Great house, I promise everything is still intact. Okay, I'll talk to you later then. Right? Bye."

"Sure, bye." Draco hung up immediately after that. He puts his cell away, and tries to explain.

"He was… at home. And then we weren't opening and he panicked and he splintered the door," your mouth drops in surprise, some laugh, you don't find it funny. "And then he looked and we weren't there, and _then_ it struck him he could've called. Repaired the door and rang," Draco rolled his eyes. "He seems to believe we're in terrible danger, even though Voldemort's been death for quite some years now. Always been bit off, that Blaze."

And all you could say was: "but the doors' okay, right?"

He laughs aloud. Everyone joins in, except for you and Ginny. Are people able to invade your house? You'd like to know. He says, still laughing: "the door is just fine Darling, don't stress it. Blaze fixed it. No one can get in."

You swallow hard. His thumb caresses your hand. You know he thinks you look very insecure. But there are valuable things in the house. You would hate to lose them. And then he smiles and you have Christmas dinner, and the world lightens up.


	5. Getting fixed

**Getting fixed.**

"Oh my God!" He sighs happily. "You're an amazing cook misses!"

His compliment makes Molly blush and even though she tells him not to, he helps her clear the table. The rest of you are banished to the living room, where you all sit down. A little later he and Molly are done clearing the table, you can hear her say: "God! That is so great! I don't know what to say!"

Everyone looks up in surprise. They're discussing something right in front of the kitchen door, but you can't see them.

"I'm a bit unsure though," you can hear him say. "I'm not sure if it's a good idea."

"Oh dear," Molly sighs. "Why would it be a bad idea? I just know he'll love it."

"Or he'll hate me and dump me, and I'll be depressive," people were looking rather puzzled now. Their gaze went from the door, to you, and back again. Molly and Draco were talking about you, and they knew it. "And I'll have to take pills and I won't be able to handle them and I'll lose my mind but I won't care because I'll be Harry-less and I don't wanna be Harry-less!" He said it all very fast and took a quick intake of breath. The others exchanged looks and you were surprised. He didn't want to be Harry-less? Why would you leave?

"Oh dear Merlin," said Molly. "Don't be sad Sweetheart," there were a couple of silent sobs. "It won't be that way! You won't be… Harry-less."

"How can you be so sure!" Sobbed Draco dramatically. He was really upset. "I was a bastard! And I'm… still a bastard!"

"Don't say that," Molly tried to comfort him. "He would've left you if it was true."

"Well," Draco sobbed silently. "I provide him of great sex! And amazing rim jobs! Why leave me? I'm the prefect sex-toy! I can go on all night and…"

"Hush now Darling," interrupted Molly. "It'll be just fine. I'm sure Harry is not just with you because of your abilities in bed."

"He could be!" Draco blew his nose. "He can be mean too you know!" Draco defended himself. "Like when… when…" he stutters. "Okay… that was a lie!" Admitted Draco. "He's never mean. How can a guy be so per… perfect!" Draco sobbed again.

"I'm sure he isn't." Molly tried feebly. Everyone in the living room was listening carefully. You too. You were really curious, and found the conversation quite interesting.

"Yes he is!" Snapped Draco. "Everything about him is perfect! You try and find a flaw! And it's not going to go well!" You got up, right at that point. He continued though: "he's going to hate me and…" he stopped when you opened the living room door. "Harry! Oh fuck!" He tried to hide his face, that was paler than ever, from crying. Except his eyes of course, they were red and puffy. Molly seemed very happy to see you. Probably figured it would make him happier. The others got up, and walked over to the door, peering around it. They were finally able to get a glimpse of the crying young man. You frowned and walked over to where they were standing. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and turned his head.

"What is all this about?" You ask, putting a hand on his cheek, and turning his face. You look into his eyes. "Why am I suddenly to hate and leave you?"

He tries to get away, but you pull him into a tight embrace. He whispers: "you can't know." Against your ear.

"Well fine," you turn and look in his eyes again. "But I'm not going to, okay? I'm _not_ leaving you."

He nods and closes his eyes. You can tell he's sleepy. So you lead him to the stairs. You wave at the others, whisper a 'thanks' to Molly, and take him up. You undress him, and he crawls under the blankets. You can only stare at him. He's beautiful, without realising it. He lies close to you.

"I'm sorry for crying Harry."

You could've figured he'd say that. He doesn't like to cry in front of others. Definitely not in front of you. You push the hair out of his face and kiss his forehead. His eyes are closed.

"Don't be Draco. You shouldn't be. There's nothing wrong with it." You say.

He nods, and wraps an arm around your form. Ten minutes later, when someone knocks on the door, he's already asleep. You carefully unwrap his arms, and open the door. It's Sirius and Remus.

"How is he?" Remus asks, looking confused. Sirius sips tea.

"He's okay," you say. "But doesn't want to tell me what was wrong."

"I totally freaked," Sirius admits. "He was just like Moony when the full moon is near!"

Remus looks assaulted and hits Sirius hard on his head. You grin sheepishly.

"I wonder what it's about though, Molly won't tell us," says Sirius. "But God! It was funny!" He grins, remembering.

"It was not!" You argue. "Him being sad is not funny!"

"Okay, not that… just all the… exposing… and like… the sex-toy bit." Sirius reasons happily. "With the sex and the rim-jobs. Poor Molly. She didn't know what was coming over her. She's just sitting on the sofa. The others are trying to get it out of her, but she won't tell."

"Pff. I should go see her," you say, and close the door. "To thank her and all."

You don't like leaving him all alone in bed. You want to be there when he wakes up. You want to talk to him. Be there for him. You know you should talk about what happened. And it's hard for you to breathe right now. Thinking about it. He never cries. You know this. He only cried once, and that was at the thought of you and Ginny. Besides that, he never cried before. Not even when his father died. But somehow, the thought of you leaving, is more than he can handle. It makes you want to yell out in distress.

Molly's on the sofa. All the Weasleys are saying things like: "what was it about mum?" "What happened mum?" And so on. Hermione's sitting on a chair, rolling her eyes every couple of seconds. When you come in, it goes quiet. Molly looks up and smiles at you.

"Thanks for sort of… trying to comfort him," you say, and sit down on the carpet in front of her. "And I know you won't tell me what it was about but… I mean… was it bad?"

Molly's smile grew wider.

"It really wasn't," she got a mysterious glitter in her eyes. "Oh, no. It wasn't bad. And I just want to be the first to say: I'll be very happy when it happens. And you'll be too, I believe."

It isn't long before your curiosity gets the best of you, and you get up to leave once more. You need to ask him what is going on, because it worries and excited you at the same time.

That's never been a good combination for you in the past.

You rouse him from his sleep cautiously, you don't want to push any unnecessary buttons in fear of driving him off, so slow is the way to go.

"Harry?" he frowns when he opens his big grey eyes, and you cannot help but smile.

He's so beautiful.

"I'm sorry to wake you Draco," you murmur. "It's just that I'm worried. What were you talking about before?"

Draco gives a sigh and glares, and for a moment you fear you have angered him. Then you realise the only person he's angry with, is himself.

"I didn't want to tell you like this," he pouts while crawling out from under the blankets, arse wriggling when he made his way over to his bag. "I've completely messed it up."

"What do you have to tell me?" you frown, growing more impatient with every passing second.

He ignored your question and begins putting his jeans back on.

"Draco, what's going on? What are you doing?" you sound very stressed but he shakes his head.

"I can't be naked for this, or you won't take me seriously," he explains, reaching for his shirt.

You grab his fore-arms and force him to look at you. It is as if he sees you for the very first time, his eyes widening slightly.

"Draco, I always take you seriously," you whisper, confident.

"Alright," he gives a fierce nod and takes a small box from his bag, "Harry, what I meant to tell you is, I love you."

You smile happily and kiss him. Still, you wonder what the exact meaning is. You know he loves you, even though you would doubt sometimes. If he started with such a declaration, it had to be something important.

Before you can conjure up dreaded visions of him leaving you, you feel something heavy and cool touch your palm. He cups your hand in his, looking at you intently.

"I want you to have this," he says. "I would like to be able to call you my husband Harry."

You blink in shock.

For a moment you think he's joking: he's right there with his fly undone and his shirt opened, and you suddenly get what he meant about being serious before.

When you look down at your hand, you see the silver Malfoy-ring on your palm. You know the ring has been passed down from father to son for centuries, the Malfoy-crest engraved in the side.

"Wh—" you choke on a sob, and you don't know whether you're laughing or crying because you're just...

...overwhelmed.

"I..." you realise you've been staring with your mouth opened for over a minute.

Not wanting to look like a fool, you close your mouth and look up at him. He looked horribly measuring, and the thought that you're taking too long occurs.

"Oh, of course!" you grin goofily, clenching your fist around his ring as you throw your arms around his neck, "Of course I want to marry you!"

You kiss, and you are very sure you have never been so happy in your whole entire life.

After all these years, loving him has become just like a habit. And it was a habit you were never going to quit.

**AN: I know the last piece is written in a different style than the rest, that's because I wrote that today, while the rest was written ages ago. My style changed a lot since then, but I've always wanted to finish this, since I had a good idea how I wanted to end it. This was exactly how I always imagined it to be, I just never got around to finishing it. But I did today !**

**Don't you just love happy ending? This was all fluffy, the sugar nearly choked me!**


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